


Heart Skipped a Beat

by VictoriaAGrey



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Ficlet Collection, Love, Lust, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-21 03:37:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2453276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictoriaAGrey/pseuds/VictoriaAGrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Rickyl oneshots I have fulfilled on Tumblr to be crossposted here:</p>
<p>1.) Serial Killer!Rickyl AU - We Were Born in Blood<br/>2.) Judith is Lost in the Ball Pit<br/>3.) High School Reunion AU - Once Again<br/>4.) Literally Bumping into Each Other AU - Worst Fucking Day Ever... Sorta<br/>5.) Daryl Reuniting with Rick Post-Consumed - Branches of a Tree</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We Were Born in Blood

Merle’s old Harley, black and daringly emblazoned with SS on its side, sent vibrations up Daryl’s legs and into his gut. Violent surges of adrenaline were still coursing through his veins, sending sparks of electricity across his skin; making him feel more alive than he’d ever been. The hands of his faithful lover, rough and demanding as the always were on nights like these, grasped tightly at his waist before one moved sensuously down his stomach to kneed at his inner-thigh.

“There’s some blood on your ear, baby,” Rick purred, loud enough for him to hear above the din, as he bit down on his earlobe and flicked his tongue. Thick waves of arousal crashed over him, sending a groan out of his throat and blood southward. Just a few more minutes winding down that old country backroad and Daryl would be able to make him pay for that.

No more than five minutes passed before the old motel they were crashing at came into view. Parking in the spot in front of their room, Daryl swung his leg over the side to climb off his motorcycle and felt, rather than saw, Rick go through the same motion. He didn’t make it to the door before Rick’s greedy hands started trailing paths of heat under his shirt and across his skin.

Once the door was open, Rick walked into the room, purpose evident in his step.

“Turn it on.”

“Of course. It’s our song.”

The discordant cadence of their song drifted into the air from the speakers on the TV as they quickly stripped themselves for the night; sleep being the furthest thing from their minds. It was a familiar tune, one they reveled in hearing everyday as the voices behind it grew more frantic and fearful. While most listened to it as a way of keeping themselves informed, these two men listened to it for the high, the power drunk feeling it spurred in them. They got off on it, literally sometimes… as they planned to tonight.

It told the story of Rick Grimes and Daryl Dixon. How one of them turned in his deputy badge for an illegal firearm and the other traded in his worthless life for one drenched in blood. Newscasters trilled with glee in naming them the Atlanta Barrows, fawning in pride at drawing a parallel to the fabled, long dead violent lovers as well as giving a nod to the lethal couple’s signature: a single arrow, shot from Daryl’s crossbow, into the heart of all their victims. Seventeen was the last count, but by tomorrow morning, they would be reporting eighteen.

Pop psychiatrists scolded the public for their fascination with the couple and shamed those who defended their vigilante ways; all the while squawking from every media platform available that Rick and Daryl fed on the public’s frenzy.

“Do you get off on it? Huh, Daryl? Do you?” Rick moaned into Daryl’s neck after hearing a psychiatrist explain to a CNN reporter the cycle of hybristophilia which likely kept their sex life burning like a forest fire.

Daryl looked down at Rick from his position in his lap. Blood was splattered across his face, neck, and lower arms from their latest kill; an ex-city council man who murdered his wife but had gotten away with the crime by tampering with evidence. The look on Rick’s face as he killed him was savage and filled to the brim with self-righteous fury. Triggering the memory alone ripped an agonized scream of ecstasy from his chest and he threw back his head to ride out the almost painful ripples of arousal.

Nails scratched down Daryl’s sides as he continued to move on top of Rick at a hurried pace. The masochist in him enjoyed the pain that entwined itself with pleasure, Rick knowing how to provide both in equal measures. Daryl was so lost in a myriad of need and want that he didn’t notice Rick pulling his chest closer to him until it was too late and he bit down on one of his nipples. Crying out, Daryl shook in undiluted bliss as Rick stroked him to completion while he came inside him with a choked out moan.

Time slunk past at a crawl in their dopamine haze as they watched the reports profiling their crimes and lives. Twisting his fingers in Rick’s curly hair, Daryl drew his still bloodied face towards his own, feeling his body begin to stir again at the sight.

“So, who’s next?”


	2. Judith is Lost in the Ball Pit

"Carl!" Rick called as he approached his son. "Where’s Judith?"

After pausing his game, or at least that’s what Rick assumed he did, Carl waved his hand in the general direction of the large, multi-colored monstrosity in the middle of the parking lot. “In the ball pit.”

"Oh god."

Turning back around, Rick began to make his way through the throngs of families here to celebrate  _Bring Your Family to Work Day_. Most of the police officers on the force were already friends outside of work, but it was always nice to have everyone gathered in one spot every year. Rick loved it, if for no other reason, because his kids enjoyed all the activities the event scheduled.

"Did ya find her?"

"No," Rick replied as he grasped Daryl’s arm in a silent gesture to follow him. "But I know where she is."

The sound of screaming toddlers greeted Rick and Daryl as they came to a stop in front of the ball pit. Both scanned it for the missing Grimes child, but could not find her head of full, curly brown hair amongst the other kids.

"JUDITH!" Rick and Daryl yelled to no avail. A minute passed with them searching. Still no Judith.

"I’m goin’ in."

"Daryl no," Rick pleaded, but it was too late. Daryl had already kicked off his shoes and stripped himself of his over-shirt, jumping into the ball pit looking like some overzealous action hero. "Don’t do this."

Rick watched helplessly as Daryl waded through the ball pit, arms outstretched to churn the balls in a bid to find Judith. So far, no luck.

"Uh, Rick?" Shane started as he appeared at his side.

"Yeah?"

"Why is your husband in the ball pit?"

"Search and rescue mission."

"Oh god."

"GOT HER!" Daryl cried in relief as he held the elusive Judith over his head. She was squirming about, seemingly attempting to escape his grasp as she giggled.

Relieved, Rick approached the edge of the ball pit. “Where was she?”

"Hidin’ in tha - " Daryl stuttered as Judith picked up a ball and threw it in his face. " - corner."

"Judith, why were you hiding in the corner?" Rick asked as he took his daughter from Daryl so he could climb out of the ball pit. "Were you scared?"

"Dairy find me!" Judith laughed.

"Great. She gave me a heart attack ‘cause she wanted ta play hide ‘n seek."

Keeping Judith focused on activities where they could supervise her, like finger painting, Rick and Daryl enjoyed the rest of the event. It was only towards the end when Shane brought his latest girlfriend over to meet them that Rick turned watch of her over to Carl. After exchanging a few pleasantries with her, they knew she wouldn’t last long but there was no need to let that on, Rick turned back to Carl and… saw no Judith.

"Carl, where’s Judith?"

"The ball pit. She said something like, "Daddy’s turn.""

"Oh god."


	3. Once Again

Daryl  _hated_  high school.

He had been lanky at the time, all whipcord muscle and no fat to make him look bigger. Kids picked on him mercilessly until they learned that his build didn’t speak to his actual strength. Afterwards, he was just that outcast kid leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette no one paid attention to as they went to class.The only reason he stayed in school at all was because his mama made him promise to be the first Dixon to graduate high school when she saw Merle take a wayward turn. His best friend, Michonne, had been one of the two bright spots in the entirety of his high school experience. Made it bearable.

In fact, she’s the reason he’s at this goddamn reunion at all. He wouldn’t have thought to come if it hadn’t been for the potential of seeing  _him_  again… which she used as ammo to drag him here.

"Have you seen him yet?" she eagerly asked as she bounded back over to him with drinks in hand from the bar.

"No," Daryl replied stiffly, taking a good swig of his beer to calm his nerves. Who’s to say if he was even here that he would remember him. Daryl was so forgettable. A nobody in a room of one.

At the start of senior year, Daryl took comfort in telling himself it was his last year and he would be forever rid of that hell hole people called school. When he got his schedule for the first semester, he was disappointed to see that chemistry was his first class. It wasn’t that he hated science, it’s just that he was usually late to school because he had to walk the whole way and depend on the sun to wake him, making him miss whole parts of class. Science was difficult enough without missing chunks of instruction. Walking resignedly to class, he took his assigned seat and waited to see who his table mate was. Hopefully no one too awful.

"Whew! Thought I was going to be late," came the cheerful voice from the person next to him. Wondering who the hell could sound so relieved at arriving on time, Daryl turned to see who the morning riser was.

It wasn’t to say that Daryl had never seen him before, everybody knew him, but up close and personal, he was almost agonizingly beautiful. Rick Grimes was all lion’s mane hair, piercing sky blue eyes, and full red lips. He was basically a walking, talking affront to Daryl’s admittedly vigorously suppressed sexuality.

"Hi, I’m Rick, by the way," he smiled as he held his hand out.

"Daryl," he managed to choke out as he took his hand.

And that had been it. One handshake and he sold his soul for one semester of projects, cheating off of each others homework and tests, quiet but amused camaraderie, and the awful, sinking feeling that he was falling in love each night he went to bed early so he could be sure to arrive to class on time. After the semester, they barely saw each other except for quickly passed greetings in the hall.

Tragic that ten years later he was still carrying a torch for him that Michonne said blinded her at times.

"Excuse me. I’m sorry, but are you Daryl Dixon?" said the achingly familiar voice behind him.

Bracing himself for the worst, the worst being that he looked even better than he did in high school, Daryl turned around and His. Heart. Dropped. Rick was wearing a blinding smile, like he was as happy to see Daryl as Daryl was to see him, and a three piece suit that made him look like a million dollars. Same head of curly hair. Same bright eyes and full lips. The only difference was the distinguished beard he now had.

Daryl was surprised he could still breathe.

"Yeah, Imma… Daryl," he stuttered in reply, much to his own mortification.

"You probably don’t remember me, but we had chemistry together senior year. My name’s Rick."

If Daryl wasn’t too busy trying to fathom how somebody could possibly forget someone like Rick, he probably would have passed out because of all the possible connotations in the wording of Rick’s reminder.

"I remember you," Daryl admitted as he held out his hand, Rick shaking it with enthusiasm. "It’s good ta see ya again."


	4. Worst Fucking Day Ever... Sorta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I used this prompt as an excuse to revive photographer!Daryl and model!Rick. No, I am not sorry. 
> 
> BTW have you ever seen those pics of NR wearing glasses. That inspired this too because DAMN.

_God-fucking-damn it!!!_ Daryl angrily thought to himself as he used his shoulder to shift his thick rimmed glasses back up his nose while he juggled numerous textbooks in his arms. It was bad enough that he was running late to his psychology class, but he had just gotten a text from his human anatomy photography teacher that his model had bailed on him for his afternoon photoshoot… the photoshoot that was worth 20% of his grade. The stray thought that his day could not get any worse came to him and he swore to himself knowing he had probably just jinxed himself because the universe really did hate him that much.

Jogging down the stairs of his dorm because the elevator was broken (of course it was fucking was), he continued trying to keep the books level in his arms. He quickly walked through the sparsely occupied entrance hall and used his back to open the glass door. As he turned to run his way across campus, he hit something solid, hot, and  _wet?_

"Fucking hell! C’mon man, what the hell!?" Daryl bellowed in frustration as he kneeled to pick up his books, which were now soaked with hot coffee, as was his shirt but he ignored it in favor of the greater tragedy.

"Shit! I’m so sorry," replied a deep voice, the owner of which was helping him gather his books.

"Sorry ain’t gonna fix my damn books or get me ta class on time!"

"I’ll pay for them, I swear. Anything. I’m so sorry."

Daryl stood once his wet books were gathered in his arms to further accost the dumbass who had just elevated his day to  _Worst Fucking Day Ever_  and was stopped in his tracks. Turns out Mr. Ruin-Your-Day was Mr. Hot-As-Fuck. His curly hair was completely out of control in a way that really shouldn’t be appealing, his bright blue eyes sparkled with energy and sincerity, and his long legs, clothed in tight black jeans, were practically begging to be grabbed. He was sin incarnate and Daryl felt himself salivate. 

"You mean it? Anything?" Daryl asked before he even realized he was speaking.

Hot Guy readily nodded in acknowledgement. “Yes, absolutely. Anything.”

"This afternoon. I need a subject for my photography photoshoot. Can ya do it?"

"Yeah, just tell me where I need to be."

"Photography studio. Ya know where it is?"

"Yes."

"Three o’clock," Daryl told him as he reluctantly started to turn away so he could make it to class at a time that was more slept-in late rather than why-the-fuck-are-you-even-here? late. "Be on time."

"I will. And hey! Are you sure you don’t want a ride to class? It’s the least I could do."

Turning back around, Daryl assessed Hot Guy. He looked like he meant it and it really would cut down on the time it took him to get to class. “Fine, but I ain’t gettin’ into a car with some guy whose name I don’t even know.”

"Rick Grimes. Sorry to have met you this way," he laughed as he smiled with teeth that were annoyingly white and straight and perfect.

_God-fucking-damn it!!!_

"Daryl Dixon. And don’t worry. Ya’ll make it up ta me eventually."


	5. Branches of a Tree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From an anon requesting a ficlet about Daryl and Rick reuniting after the events of "Consumed."

Daryl walked past Michonne in a daze, not quite registering her touch on his arm to halt him. It wasn’t disinterest that kept him from addressing her, but rather a heavy heart that needed to unload; share it’s weight with another who could care for it. Branches from his family tree kept breaking off and he needed to find the root that kept it, as well as him, pieced together. Whole.

The church doors eased open, Rick slinking out with his gun - newly muzzled with a silencer - preceding him. Relief flooded Daryl’s system at the sight of his sure leader and his crossbow fell to the ground with a quiet  _thunk_. Rick immediately aimed in the direction of the sound, gun barrel prepared to send a bullet straight through his skull. If he had been in any other state, he would have laughed at it being the fourth time Rick had taken aim at him.

"Daryl," Rick said, his deep voice filled with a solace that sounded bone deep. He set his gun down on the step and hurriedly made his way towards him. "Where’s - "

Rick’s question died before it was given birth as Daryl clamped his arms around him like a drowning man would hold onto a buoy. He supposed that’s what he was now, a drowning man. Except, instead of water, he was drowning in sorrow and his inability to take care of his family. At the thought of Beth and Carol taken away from him, he felt his body begin to quake and tears fall; shame and failure making his tears burn acrid trails down his cheeks. 

The only thing that kept him from collapsing to the ground as his knees gave way was Rick’s strong arms wrapped in a vise-grip around his waist. He kept them both level as he gradually eased them to the ground, Daryl absently noting the two footfalls that made their way past them silently into the church. Rick gently rearranged their arms so Daryl’s clung to his back around his waist and his around Daryl’s shoulders, one arm bent to hold his head in his hand.

"I’m here. I’ve got you," Rick assured him as he held onto him, letting Daryl know that he would be whatever he needed him to be in that moment. Daryl buried his face in his neck and allowed himself to cry.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, come at me on my Tumblr, [mycroft-silently-judges-you](http://mycroft-silently-judges-you.tumblr.com)! I'd love to hear from you!
> 
> Feel free to drop off any prompts as well! ♡


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